


Paradise/Warzone

by kissinatstopsigns (willowcatherine)



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn - Fandom, Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sugar Daddy, zayn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcatherine/pseuds/kissinatstopsigns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why don't you talk to them anymore?"<br/>I rolled onto my stomach, propping my head up on one hand, as I watched him puff on the joint we were sharing. The way he laid so casually cool with the sheets just barely covering his best bits sent shivers up my spine. My legs crossed tightly at the ankles as I attempted to focus my mind on the matter at hand, though it tugged me so hard backward to what we had just finished doing... What I had just finished doing with my best friend...<br/>Everyone was right: he was mysterious for sure. We had been friends for a long time now, though I never fully got through to him. And I wanted so badly to crack that façade.<br/>"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, leaning forward to run his fingertips down my spine. They tucked just under the waistband of my brand-new silk Agent Provocateur.<br/>"Your distractions won't work on me, Zayn. I'm trying to understand," I pressed.<br/>A sigh escaped his lips, accompanied by a cloud of smoke. "You'd have to ask them."<br/>---<br/>Elle Fox is not a prostitute... Not in her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stories That Sound Absurd

“I have a proposition for you.”  
I was in the middle of closing up the coffee shop, and my best friend leaned across the counter with his chin in his hand. As I cleaned the espresso machine, I rolled my eyes, knowing that this could not end well. If he had a proposition, that meant I would be put in some sort of awkward position. I had not taken him up on one of his propositions yet.  
“Hey, don’t make that face,” he continued, stretching his hand toward me. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”  
With a laugh, I replied. “The last idea you had broke the hearts of millions of girls around the world.”  
Zayn stuck his tongue out at me, but smiled. I really cherished these late nights of closing when he was able to join me. It was where we had met a year before, just a couple weeks after he left One Direction. We stayed in the shop long after closing, talking and drinking way more coffee than was healthy. We became close, to the dismay of his now-ex-girlfriend…and the next. As it turns out, girls get really uncomfortable when their boyfriend’s best friend is female.  
“Hear me out for a sec?” he asked.  
I folded the dishrag and slid it under the espresso machine. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as he gave me the puppy dog eyes.  
“Fine. What is your proposition?” I allowed, locking the register and walking around the counter to join him.  
“I need a date for my album release party.”  
Immediately, I burst into laughter. Zayn and I had never been seen in public together, and for good reason. I was lower middle-class, just out of Uni and working at a small coffee shop, whereas he…well, he was Zayn fucking Malik. He was never so pretentious as to not want to be seen with me; I just figured it would not do well for his image to be seen with me in my ripped jeans and baggy sweatshirts. I was bookish and shy…nowhere near the glamour girls he dated.  
“What’s so funny? I’m being genuine!”  
I raised my hands up to cut him off. He was quick to be defensive, though I did not mean him to get offended. It was clear that he simply did not understand how very different our worlds were. In his eyes, we grew up the same way, so we were the same.  
“Okay, let’s pretend for just one second, that this is a good idea. What would I wear?” I asked, leaning against the empty pastry display case.  
Zayn shrugged. “I’ll buy something for you.”  
With a scoff, I pushed myself off the case and turned to sit in an armchair. He looked down at me.  
“What’s so wrong with that?”  
This was something we fought about often when he was between girlfriends. He would need someone to accompany him to an event and used his endless wealth as a pawning chip. Thus far, it had not worked.  
“Z, I don’t need you spending money on me,” I said, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.  
He walked over quickly, sitting on the coffee table in front of me. His knees brushed gently against mine, and my eyes flickered down to them, then back to his.  
“Elle, it’s a tiny little favour.”  
I leaned forward till our noses were almost touching. “You still owe me for letting you crash at my place when Perrie kicked you out.”  
“I will take you on a shopping spree. What do you need?”  
“Why are you trying to bribe me?”  
We were interrupted by a rattling at the door. A couple was standing outside, trying to get in. I rolled my eyes as they cupped their hands around their eyes to see into the shop. They made eye contact, and the woman started waving and pointing at the door. I jabbed my finger to the sign between them that clearly displayed “CLOSED” on the side facing the street. They tried the door again before angrily walking away.  
“So that you don’t have to deal with idiots like that who can’t read,” he stated in a delayed answer.  
I smirked rolling my head to the side. Surveying him with my eyes, I thought over the proposition. This could easily turn into something that Zayn would regret, and the thought of torturing my best friend was definitely something I loved to do.  
“Okay. I want my dress for the party to be Vivienne Westwood, and I’m going to need fancy undergarments in case I find a hottie there. And that biker jacket and two dresses from Topshop,” I listed.  
He grimaced. “Vivienne Westwood, really? When you could have Alexander McQueen?”  
“You have a point.”  
Zayn held his hand out; I took it in my own, shaking on the deal. It was not taking advantage if he offered in the first place. That was what I had chosen to tell myself.  
“You coming over?” I asked, getting up and going behind the counter again to retrieve my purse.  
“Yes, this is Zayn Malik,” I heard him say into his phone. “I was calling to arrange a time that I could come to the store privately and purchase a gown for a friend…This Friday night, perhaps?”  
I turned around with my jaw dropped. He was calling Alexander McQueen _now_? Who has that kind of confidence?  
“Will the tailor be there?” he continued as I raced back to his side. “Okay, great. Thank you. We will be in on Friday.”  
Zayn hung up and grinned at me. “Easy.”  
“Seriously? It works like that?” I asked. “How do they know it’s really you?”  
He held his arms out in a “Come on, it’s me” kind of way. I laughed in disbelief. Zayn stood and put his hand on my shoulder as I looked up into his eyes.  
“Alright, I have more calls to make… You _are_ free Friday, right?” he asked.  
“Lucky for you,” I said.  
“Okay, I gotta go, but be ready for Friday. And the party is Saturday; free food and booze. You’re not going to regret it,” he stated, already heading out the back door to his car. I still could not believe that dumbass was finally driving.  
“I’m already regretting it!” I called, though the door was already closed behind him.  
I turned off the lights in the coffee shop and headed out into the night. Zayn’s car was already out of the car park when I got to my own little Volkswagen. He had been getting really good at quick getaways.  
My flat was only a short drive away, which did not allow for much time to think before I was forced to spend time with my flatmate. Anna was nice enough, but she always wanted to spend time with me, especially when Zayn was around. It was understandable; he was an international heartthrob. But when it was happening to me, it just was not fun.  
“There you are!” she called as soon as I walked into the flat. “I was about to start _Vampire Diaries_ without you!”  
We had been watching _Vampire Diaries_ for what felt like months now. We binged it every Wednesday night on Netflix until one of us passed out. And I wanted nothing more than to skip straight to the passing out this Wednesday  
“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout it,” I said, bee-lining for the kitchen and the bottle of moscato in the fridge. Foregoing glasses, I carried it to the sitting room and sat next to her, pulling the cork out. “Z came in as I was closing.”  
Her eyes widened, like always. I definitely wished that Anna did not know about Zayn. But one day after he and Gigi broke up last month, we were drinking at the flat, and she came home early from vacation. It was all over; she was pissed that I had kept it a secret for almost a year, and though she never imposed when he was over, she was definitely making more trips from her bedroom to the kitchen lately to catch a glimpse.  
“What did he want?” she asked, trying to sound like she did not care, but it was clear she did.  
I could not mention the party. She would ask too many questions, including if I could get her into it too.  
“Just wanted to chat about his album and Gigi,” I told her, taking a swig of wine. It was not a lie. He had mentioned Gigi’s name before asking me to accompany him on Friday. “It seems that he just can’t get over her.”  
That bit was a lie. His brief mention of her did include the phrase “fucking bitch,” firmly denying that he was still pining. But how else was I supposed to keep her from chasing him?  
“How unfortunate,” she mused, using the Xbox controller to scroll through our Netflix library. “Did he mention if he’s taking her to the party this weekend?”  
I nearly choked mid-sip and quickly covered with, “That’s _this_ weekend?!”  
Anna rolled her eyes at me. “It’s all over Twitter and Tumblr, Elle. Everyone is debating who he’s taking, and if you give me at least a hint, I could win a bet I have going.”  
I racked my brain for another lie. One per night was typically my limit. “I…I think he might be going stag.”  
Anna’s jaw dropped. “He can’t go stag!! That’s totally against some sort of law!”  
I shrugged. “He’s just going stag. Now let’s watch some blood-sucking hotness.”  
This. This was what I hated about being friends with Zayn. He was such a great guy, and a really good friend to have around. If I needed him, he was there in minutes. But we could not hang out like normal people. We had not gone out to eat together one time; in fact, the only public place we ever saw each other was the coffee shop. Usually, we would just go to one of our places, drink, and smoke a little. I just wanted one normal night with him, though I knew that I could not have it.  
Besides, I had to worry about Anna’s feelings. Even though we were not close, how would she feel if she knew that I was going to the _Mind of Mine_ release party without her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N - I have never written a Zayn fic before, and this one has already gone through so many drafts, so I can't wait to share it with you! I will be updating once every four days and posting here as well as Wattpad. Comments are always appreciated xx)


	2. Front Seat, New View

"This is torture. This is absolute torture."

A very nice lady was helping me pick shoes on Friday night as Zayn watched the process. I was on pair ten, and I still could not decide whether this or trying on all the dresses was worse. Though I loved spending time with Zayn outside of my apartment, this was not exactly how I had pictured it.

The morning had started with him calling to let me know that there was a credit waiting for me at Agent Provocateur, and that I should pick out something that would show the least lines. Words no girl wants to hear from her male best friend. I had ended up leaving the store with nearly three grand worth of lingerie.

My entire day was a whirlwind of store credit and heavy bags until I finally met up with Zayn at Alexander McQueen. Of course, it would be a lie if I said that being surrounded by such expensive things was a terrible experience. It was actually sort of nice to feel so spoiled, but I was pretty sure that the dress we ended up getting, as little fabric as there was to cover my body, cost more than my car.

"Oh, come on, Elle," Zayn replied, as we sat in the Chanel boutique, surrounded by rejected high heels. "It can't be that bad. You're a girly girl; you should like this!"

I scoffed. "Yeah, I'm a 'girly girl,' but..." I held up a silver stiletto which had a heel shaped like a serpent. "Seriously?!"

Glancing over to the sales lady, I added, "No offense to Ms. Chanel; it's just not for me."

"Actually, it's Mr Lagerfeld," she politely corrected.

Having no clue who that was, I just gave her a smile and turned back to shoes in front of me. My dress was simple: black and short with a sweetheart neck and thick straps. So, theoretically, any of these shoes could have paired with it just fine. But somehow it was not that easy. Despite being designer, none of them seemed very...fashionable. They were flashy and uncomfortable, which made me doubt Ms Chanel...or Mr Lagerfeld. Whoever.

"What about these?" Zayn asked, motioning to a different pair of silver pumps, which I had tried on about four pairs ago. They were sleek with a peep toe and cost a grand. Something that was going to be scuffed up on the ground. One thousand pounds. But if it got me out of this situation.

I nodded and reached out for them again. He handed them over and I slid them on. They were not bad, plus they brought me almost to Zayn's height so I would not feel like a dwarf beside him all night. I paced in front of the mirror a couple times; though I would probably be on my feet a lot on Saturday, I could handle this.

"Yeah, okay," I finally affirmed. "I think I can manage this."

Zayn clapped his hands together once. "Right, we'll be taking those and that matching purse over there."

I rolled my eyes. He just could not help himself, could he?

After a few more minutes, we were out of the store to get into the waiting black SUV. Our arms were filled with shopping bags, and the driver hopped out to open the back door for us. Just as I was hit with a reminder why Zayn and I did not hang out in public: paparazzi. I saw them before I heard them, setting off their flashes as we were pushed into the vehicle. Zayn slammed the door behind us as they yelled out to him, immediately turning his attention to me.

"Are you okay?"

My eyes were too busy refocusing from their blinding lights to match his gaze. It had all happened so fast that I was not sure that it happened. That was a _real thing_ that Zayn went through? He went out just to get bombarded by strangers?

"I think so," I replied. "Did they get my good side?"

"I'm hoping they didn't get any side," he stated as the car started down the street. "Seriously, are you alright?"

I blinked a couple times before the spots finally faded from my eyes. "Yeah, I'm all good. Can we head back to yours and drop off all this?"

Zayn nodded, then added, "Plus I need you to try on the dress again, just to make sure."

I knew how much of a perfectionist he was when it came to everything. Every song on his album had been worked over and over until it fit his image. Even his hair was groomed to death. It made me smile how much attention he paid to everything that he did.

His house was all his own, and I knew exactly how happy that made him—to have something that he made all the decisions on. Plus the Tekkin statues in the backyard were pretty kick-ass.

When we got to Zayn's house, he helped me with all the bags, prepping for what would inevitably happen as soon as we stepped inside. Once the door was unlocked, a fifty-kilo Akita came charging toward us from his spot on the sofa. I dropped my two Agent Provocateur bags at my feet and crouched down to brace for impact.

"Hi, Marley!" I cooed as the dog pushed himself into my chest. "How are you, love?"

I scratched his neck with my fingertips as he slobbered kisses all over my face. Zayn took the bags and set them all on top of his dining room table before coming back and pulling Marley off me.

"Alright, boy, that's good," he stated.

"You know I love this dog," I said, standing and following Zayn to the pile of shopping bags.

He let out a disbelieving laugh. "If you want to move in, you can be his honorary dog nanny. But be warned, he's a major shit head."

"It's a good thing I know how to deal with major shit heads, then, innit?" I replied, nudging him.

Zayn stuck out his tongue and grabbed the elbow that I was jabbing at his chest.

" _You're_ a shit head," he stated, as I wrestled out of his grip and gently pushed him backwards. Smiling, he pointed to the black garment bag that held a tiny Alexander McQueen dress. "Go put it on."

Instead of resisting, like I wanted to, I decided to show my gratitude by picking it up, along with the Chanel bag and one of the Agent Provocateur ones to put the whole look together. I climbed the stairs to his guest room and closed the door behind me, laying the purchases on the bed and staring at them. Had I really allowed my best friend to buy thousands of pounds worth of clothing for one evening?

For some reason, I felt no regret about it, like I would have if it were anyone else. In fact, it felt nice to be spoiled like this. There were people who _actually_ lived like this: splurging on fancy clothing. I had always been comfortable with my average income, but now I was getting a taste of the high life. And it was gorgeous.

I stripped down all the way and selected simple pink panties with a matching bra, loving the way the quality fabrics felt on my bare skin. The dress slid effortlessly up my body, and I reached back to zip it, watching myself in the full-length mirror at the end of the bed. It was short for sure, made only shorter when I slipped my feet into the heels. My eyes widened as I noticed that the hem barely covered my bum, and I made a mental note to not bend over for _any_ reason Saturday night.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed back to the door and opened it a crack to call out for Zayn. He was there in just a few minutes, holding his hands behind his back. I opened the door the rest of the way so that he could see the full effect.

"Turn," he instructed, so I did. "Look back in the mirror. See how you feel about it."

I followed these directions as well, glancing myself over as he followed behind. Zayn cocked his head to the side, and I made eye contact with him in the mirror. He was smiling, but just barely.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I really like it, Z," I confirmed. "You're really the best friend a girl could ask for."

He put one hand to his chin and shook his head. "No, I think it's missing something, still."

A puzzled expression crossed my face as I scanned the outfit again. It was simple, sure, but I did not think anything was missing. He moved forward a few steps and, with the same hand, touched just below my neck. Then he revealed that he had been holding a wide, flat box behind his back. It was a very recognisable blue, which made my heart leap into my throat.

"What is that?"

"Hold your hair," he told me, opening the box.

Again, I did as he said and watched in the reflection as Zayn placed a double strand of diamonds around my neck. Once clasped, it hung just perfectly over the dress's neckline. My jaw dropped, and I touched my free hand to the piece of jewellery. I wanted to decline it, to ask him to take it back, but it was so beautiful, and I was entranced.

"Z, it's..." I started, but words failed me.

It took a few minutes for me to focus on anything except the Tiffany diamonds. Because the only thing that could possibly break me from that spell was...Zayn pressing his lips into the crook of my neck. Chills sparked through my body, both in shock and in excitement.

"Did you like me buying things for you?" he asked, resting his chin on my shoulder as I pulled my long brown hair over the other one. His hands slid around my waist, and I could feel my heart racing. In this past year, Zayn and I had been so platonic that my body didn't know how to react to his actions.

I nodded in answer to his question, twirling the end of my hair.

"I want to spoil you," he said. "You're a good friend, too, Elle. You deserve nice things."

"Why does this feel like a trap?" I whispered, my hands moving down to cover his. "Zayn, are you... Are you trying to have sex with me?"

He pulled away, and I turned to face him. Of course, he was attractive, even blind people knew that. But we had grown so close that I no longer could think of him sexually...until now.

"We're just friends, aren't we?" I continued. "We hang out and get high and...we definitely don't have sex."

Zayn gave me a cheeky little smile. "What's so wrong with a guy buying his best mate a few things?"

I furrowed my brow and laughed a bit. "Are you trying to be my sugar daddy or something?"

"Something like that."

He put his hand on my waist again, pulling me toward him. And despite the fact that I knew better, I gave in and let him kiss me.

_That was sudden_ , I thought to myself.


	3. Blazing on That New-Found Haze

I never would have believed a year ago that Zayn Malik and I would be friends. Even more, I would not have believed that we would end up as more than that. It was late that Friday night, and I had somehow found myself sprawled across the foot of his bed, wearing only pink knickers and exhaling marijuana smoke. My eyes were closed as I stretched out on my back, one leg bent at the knee, as I felt Zayn reach forward and take the joint from my fingers.

"Do you think Catholics ever just let loose and get freaky sometimes?" I asked. "Like, super Catholics that actually wait till marriage."

Zayn chuckled, and I smiled, glancing over to him. I ran my fingers through my hair, letting it hang off the edge of the bed.

"You think this will ruin our friendship?" I said, tucking a hand behind my head. He merely shook his head. Biting my lip, I looked up at the ceiling. "Why do you hang out with me so much? I'm not special."

"Hey." He leaned forward and held my chin, turning my head to face him again. "You're plenty special. In fact, I like you quite a bit more than anyone else. Everyone else is all stuck up. It's why I liked all that spoiling you; you don't let material things affect you."

Zayn moved back till he was against his big leather headboard again.

"Are you still friends with them?" I asked, my voice quiet. Again, he shook his head. "Why don't you talk to them anymore?"

I rolled onto my stomach, propping my head up on one hand, as I watched him puff on the joint we were sharing. The way he laid so casually cool with the sheets just barely covering his best bits sent shivers up my spine. My legs crossed tightly at the ankles as I attempted to focus my mind on the matter at hand, though it tugged me so hard backward to what we had just finished doing... What _I_ had just finished doing with my best friend...

Everyone was right: he was mysterious for sure. We had been friends for a long time now, though I never fully got through to him. And I wanted so badly to crack that façade.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, leaning forward to run his fingertips down my spine. They tucked just under the waistband of my brand-new silk Agent Provocateur.

"Your distractions won't work on me, Zayn. I'm _trying_ to understand," I pressed.

A sigh escaped his lips, accompanied by a cloud of smoke. "You'd have to ask them."

"Well, I'm not asking _them_ ," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I'm asking _you_. Why don't you talk to them? Were _they_ stuck up?"

"Elle..." Zayn said in an exasperated voice. He took another hit from the joint before tapping it over the ashtray on the nightstand and handing it to me. "As much as it will ruin my high, I'll talk to you about this.

"Once upon a time, I did not want to audition for _X Factor_. My mum made me. I auditioned as a solo artist. I was put in a group, which was a grand idea...said no one, ever. The end."

My brows knit together, and I sat up. "That's it? You don't talk to them just because you didn't want to be in a group with them?"

"Yes and no."

"Once upon a time, you walked into my coffee shop. I entered the relationship to be friends. We had sex, which was a _grand idea_...said no one, ever. The end." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Oh, so you didn't want to have sex with me?" Zayn challenged.

I put a hand to my chest and said, "I was a Niall girl before you."

He narrowed his eyes, then reached out and pulled me on top of him. I laughed as he took the joint and stubbed it out in the ashtray before kissing me hard. Smiling, I tangled my hands in his hair, resting against the arm he had loosely wrapped around the back of my neck. I felt safer than I probably should have, with the knowledge that we weren't a "thing," and we would not be.

As I tasted Zayn's tongue on mine, I realised that we were not friends anymore. Even if we tried to go back, it would never be the same. Now—now that we had entered this strange relationship where he purchased expensive gifts for my time—I was officially his bitch. My body belonged to him now, and while part of me was reluctant, the other part was thrilled. And that was the part in control as Zayn twisted my hair around his hand, gently pulling.

"There was still good weed in that spliff," I said softly as he planted kisses down my throat.

"I'll buy more," he hummed, continuing the trail between my breasts and down my torso. "Only the finest for you."

My breath hitched in my throat. Why was I so turned on by him buying things for me? Was this some sort of weird fetish? I knew I was not a gold-digger; Zayn's money was not my reason for being his friend in the first place. But, fuck, this was amazing.

"You look so sexy in these little knickers," he muttered, holding my waist.

 _Did my best friend just call me sexy?_ I thought to myself as Zayn started slipping my panties off. Before his head could dip between my legs, I sat up, scooting backwards. He stared at me in confusion as I dropped my head between my hands.

"Z, we can't do this," I said, feeling completely ashamed. "I'm taking all the stuff back tomorrow, and you're going to the release party alone."

I dropped my hands from my face and looked up at him.

"Elle, I can't go stag to my own party," he argued.

A scoff escaped my lips. "What, so you were only planning on screwing me to secure my spot on your guest list? Is this how everyone's been RSVP-ing?"

"Mate, what the fuck..."

"We're not 'mates' anymore, Zayne. I'm basically a whore now."

Zayn's brows pulled together, and he shook his head. "Elle, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. If you want me to stop spending money on you, just say the word. We don't have to fuck again; it's fine. But please don't make me show up to my own party alone. You're one of the few good friends I have. Don't make me be alone."

I sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. "Okay, that's fine. I'm sorry, okay? I've never been in this situation before. It's weird for me, and I don't want to lose you."

I realised my own nakedness and pulled the quilt over my body. What an odd conversation to have with a friend...nude. Did people do this often? Were there two other people somewhere else in this world having the same or a similar conversation? I felt so exposed, and not just because of my nudity.

Sleeping with Zayn only proved one thing: I was just as thirsty as the rest of the world. And what made it even worse was that I had done it for a dress. Me—sad little me who was so afraid of getting hurt that I had only had one boyfriend in my life. I was the one sitting on my best friend's bed, post-coital. Sure, I had had a few flings, but nothing to write home about. And nothing that was exchanged for material goods like a common prostitute.

"You can't..." I started, pulling the quilt more tightly around myself. "Zayn, you're my friend. And I love you. But you're famous! I'm just—I'm just Elizabeth Fox."

It was completely petty of me to use his fame against him. Being Zayn Malik was not his fault. In fact, none of this was truly his fault; everything he had done so far that day was with good intentions. I was the one with the problem; I was looking a gift horse in the mouth.

"Elle, I don't know what else to do!" he replied, a hint of pleading to his voice. "I'm so cursed. Girls don't want to date me; all I want is someone I can treat like a princess, but ever since Perrie, no one wants to touch me!"

I cocked my head to the side in confusion. "Gigi?"

Zayn let out a scoff. "Oh, she had no personality. Besides, even she had her reservations about our entire relationship."

"Well, to be fair, you do have your ex-fiancée tattooed on your bicep," I reminded him.

He glared at me, but almost immediately softened. "I just think something without strings could be good for me. For the time being, at least. Don't you ever want that?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "But..."

"And if you get something out of it too, it's a win-win, right?"

"Well, yeah, but..." I repeated.

He bulldozed on. "So who's to say that we can't at least try this. 'Cos let's face it: sex is great, and we both need it."

I merely nodded. No one could argue with that. Besides, nobody was going to get hurt if Zayn bought me a few things. I would think of myself as Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_... Except for the part where she was a hooker, and I—most definitely—was not.


	4. This is Our Day

My scalp felt like it was on fire.

After making Zayn and myself a lovely breakfast of turkey bacon and eggs, he returned the favour with a hair and makeup team to poke and prod me. My hair had been tugged and back-combed to death, and I was currently giving Zayn a side-eyed glare as my face was painted. He was smirking, his hand cupping his chin as he stood to the side. And I was so not happy with him.

As I sat in my pink silk bathrobe, I hardly breathed as the artist steadily traced eyeliner onto my lid. An itch pricked at my cheek, naturally, at that moment, and I balled my hands into fists to control myself. This girl was working so hard, and I did not want to interrupt the process.

"You doing all right over there, champ?" Zayn asked, receiving a thumbs-up from me.

Eventually, the itch passed just as the makeup artist leaned back and reached into her box of tricks for a red lipstick. Zayn almost immediately made a noise of protest, causing both of us to snap our attention to him. I let out a breath that I had not known I was holding as he adjusted his weight between his feet, seeming uncomfortable. The girl slowly put the lipstick back in the box, not breaking her gaze from him.

"No lips," he stated simply.

The artist's head jerked backward as if she had been slapped. My newly filled-in eyebrows knit themselves together in confusion.

"No lips?" she echoed. "Why?"

Zayn shook his head, his eyes scanning me over. "I like the natural colour better."

A smirk threatened to tug at the corner of my mouth as I watched the girl's gaze move from his face to mine and back. She was clearly not used to having anyone tell her how to do her job. But she also did not want to argue with Zayn Malik. Carefully, she loaded her things back into their case.

"I guess I'm done then," she said, heading toward the front door. "I'll send you my bill."

I watched as she left the house, feeling a little bad for what Zayn had done. He had not meant to offend her, but his being a perfectionist took over. Standing, I walked past him to the washroom to see what she had managed to get done. My jaw dropped as soon as I saw my reflection.

"Oh, my god," I said loudly, leaning toward the mirror for a better look.

"Now you see why I said no lips," I heard my friend say from the door way.

My eyes only met his briefly before I gazed at myself again. The hairdresser had put big curls in my hair that somehow made my dark brown hair look longer. And the way the makeup artist had darkened my eyelids and winged out the liner made any colour on the lips unnecessary. Any extra steps would have made me look like a painted whore.

I grimaced at my own thought. At this point, "painted whore" was almost accurate. A pit formed in my stomach as I reminded myself what I was doing. This was more complicated than just two friends going to a party together; this was an exchange of gifts for my time. My hands gripped at the edge of the counter until the knuckles turned white. Zayn came over to me, placing a hand on my back.

"Elle, are you okay?" he asked, and I looked up at him.

"Yeah," I replied, forcing back the wave of nausea that was sweeping through my abdomen. "I'm just really nervous about tonight."

I turned to lean against the bathroom counter. His hand slid from my back around my waist, and Zayn pulled me into him. I was careful to not mess my hair up against his chest as he squeezed me gently. Silently, I prayed that he could not feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"It is going to be so fun and low-stress," he assured me. "All you have to do is eat, drink, and dance. You don't even have to talk to anyone."

A heavy sigh left me as I wrapped my arms around him. I could do this; I knew I could. Zayn had said last night that I was not obligated to do anything that made me uncomfortable. But the problem was that I was starting to want to be with him in the worst possible way. I had no romantic feelings toward him whatsoever, and I knew it. Yet now that I had gotten a taste, I wanted more.

"I think I know the real reason you said no lips," I stated, pulling away from the hug.

Zayn looked down. "What's that?"

Smiling, I put a hand on either side of his face and pulled him down to me. Our lips connected in a fiery spark, and I pressed my body against his as hard as I could. His right hand slipped from my waist, slamming down hard on the counter as he leaned me backwards over it.

"Wait," I muttered against his lips. He pulled back for a moment as I hoisted myself onto the counter, wrapping my legs around him.

"I thought we weren't doing this," he reminded me, showing little resistance as his fingers gravitated toward the sash around my waist.

I leaned my head to the side, looking him over. "This is the last time."

\---

**Anna: OMG UR at Zayn's party and didn't tell me???**

The inevitable text came an hour after posing for a few photos on the red carpet. I knew Anna was going to call me out on it eventually; I just had not realised how quickly the pictures would be posted.

**Anna: Also U look really good?!?!?!**

I let out a soft laugh, sitting down on one of the few abandoned loveseats to the side of the dancefloor. Zayn had long disappeared backstage to get ready for his performance, leaving me alone to my own devices. After a very awkward moment of nearly spilling a drink on Justin Bieber, I decided staying out of everyone's way was best.

**Elle: It was really last minute. Are you mad?**

Chewing on my bottom lip, I stared anxiously at my screen, waiting for her reply. But a weight came down on the seat next to me. I jumped, hiding my phone from instinct, and looked up at Zayn's manager. She stuck out from the party like a sore thumb in her pantsuit, with her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. I felt Anna's reply buzz in my hand as Sarah and I shared a few seconds' awkward silence. Other than a brief interaction on the red carpet before the party, she and I had never spoken to each other before.

"Hi..." I finally said, glancing around to see if anyone else was as uncomfortable as I was. They partied on, not paying any mind to us.

"Elizabeth," she said, like it had been her life's mission to say that word, and now it was finally out of her system.

"Great party," I replied, slipping my phone into my purse and snapping it shut. "I can't wait to watch Zayn."

"Oh, you won't be staying that long," Sarah stated, glancing down at her own phone. "See, you were just meant to arrive with Zayn. We'll have him be seen leaving with Gigi."

An invisible weight pressed on my chest, causing all the air to leave my lungs. It was extremely loud in the party; I must have not heard her correctly.

"No, I'm going home with him tonight," I corrected her. "All my things are in his guest room; I'm staying there this weekend."

She sighed as if I were some great inconvenience. "Listen, darling, I'm sure you're lovely, but Zayn can't have a steady girlfriend right now."

My face began to burn—half from embarrassment, half from anger. "I'm not his _girl_ friend. I'm his _best_ friend."

A smile crossed her face. "Great, so you understand. We have a car waiting around back for you, and I'll send someone to his house to pick up your belongings."

I looked down at my hands, trying to compose myself. Surely he knew nothing about this, and his manager was just being a bitch. Zayn would never hurt me like this. Besides, he had gone through so much to make sure I looked my best. He had done everything he could to make me feel special.

Standing, I looked down at Sarah and said, "Don't bother. I'll get a cab. And I'll come pick up my shit later. Tell Zayn I said goodbye."

Pushing through the crowd, I looked for the exit, trying to remain calm. It was when I stepped into the fresh air, my cell phone pressed tightly to the side of my face when I allowed tears to fall from my eyes.

"Elle, I'm not upset; I told you," Anna immediately reassured me when she answered the call.

Taking in a laboured breath, I responded, "Can you come pick me up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N - Poor Elle! Just trying to get her party on! I hope you guys like the story so far. It's only going to get better! Please don't be a silent reader! The next chapter will be up tomorrow xx)


	5. My Brain Can't Equate It

Sunday was spent face-down on the sofa in my pyjamas, Disney movies playing back-to-back on Netflix as Anna made sure my glass of Merlot was never empty. She had her hair up in a leopard print scarf as she propped her feet on the coffee table, painting her nails a deep red. Glancing down, I lifted my left leg to get a better view of my own toes, which I had done in a pale pink colour for the party. Even my favourite colour looked depressing after last night’s events.  
“I’ll do yours next if you want,” she said in her sweet American accent.  
I poked my bottom lip out, looking at her as she concentrated on her big toe. Lowering my leg, I replied, “I’ll be okay.”  
Anna’s eyes flickered up, and she gave me a little “suit yourself” shrug. I reached out to the Xbox controller to pause _Princess and the Frog_.  
“Why did you come to London?” I asked her as she ran her thumbnail around the edge of red.  
She wiggled her brown toes on the coffee table before answering, “I had nothing better to do, and I didn’t realise how broke it would make me.”  
I laughed softly, shaking my head. My bones cracked as I stretched and sat up on the sofa.  
“I couldn’t imagine leaving America for here,” I told her. “Especially for a sad desk job at a law firm.”  
“It’s an internship,” she corrected me, screwing the lid back on the lacquer bottle.  
Anna was in law school, which must have made her parents very proud. From what she had told me, they were both big in politics in the States. I wondered what it was like to come from a successful family like hers, one that could afford to send their children to Unis all around the world. It was especially hard to someone who graduated with a degree in art history and no knowledge on how to use it.  
“Is it difficult?” I asked her. “Being as smart as you are?”  
She stuck her tongue out at me, setting down the nail polish in exchange for wine. This was the first time hanging out with Anna did not involve _The Vampire Diaries_ in a long time.  
“Can I ask what happened last night?” she asked, stretching her legs out as she leaned back in her arm chair.  
I picked up my own glass, tucking my feet underneath me. Last night had been a complete disaster, which only ended with my Alexander McQueen shoved in the garbage bin in the kitchen. My eyes trailed over to it now, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. I would fish it out later if Anna did not tuck it away in her own closet first.  
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I was having fun, and then Zayn left to get ready to perform. And his manager basically kicked me out for having a vagina.”  
Anna tilted her head to the side. “Um…?”  
I sighed. “She basically thinks that if we’re seen together too much, people will assume we’re dating. Which will ruin his ‘bad boy’ image.”  
She snorted out a laugh, which I could only interpret as a reaction to the thought of Zayn being a bad boy. It was true; he seemed like he could seriously fuck someone up, but he was a teddy bear. A very complicated teddy bear.  
“Have you talked to him?” Anna asked just as my mobile began to ring on the coffee table.  
I sighed, glaring at her. “You jinxed it.”  
The phone rang a couple times before I finally picked it up. After a few more moments of hesitation, I stood and went to my room to answer.  
Zayn sounded sad when he replied, “Where did you go?”  
I closed my bedroom door behind me and sat on the big pink beanbag chair in front of my window. Many possible answers ran through my head, but none of them sounded right. ‘ _I got bored._ ’ Or ‘ _I couldn’t find you._ ’ Of course, there was also, ‘ _I was so wasted; I called an Uber and drunk me told him to bring me home._ ’  
“Are you just now realising I wasn’t the tall blonde you left with last night?” I asked, hearing the acid in my own voice.  
There was a pause on his end, followed by a sigh. “Will you come over?”  
“I don’t know, Zayn…” My thoughts flashed back to what Sarah had said last night. I was only supposed to arrive with him, not leave; I was just a pawn in this chess game—easily disposable. Did I really want to hang out with someone who made me feel that way?  
“Elle, I will make it up to you,” he promised. “Just come over, and we’ll talk about it.”  
I could imagine his big brown eyes glistening with regret, which made my decision a simple one. Agreeing, I got up to change into jeans and a t-shirt. Anna knew as soon as I walked out of my room that Zayn had sweet-talked his way back into my good graces. With my purse hitched over my shoulder, I pointed at her with the key to the Volkswagen.  
“Don’t judge me,” I said as I walked out of the flat.  
On the way, I rehearsed what I wanted to say as soon as I got there. About how hurt I was when I was sent home by his manager, and how if that was going to happen again, I couldn’t keep going to events with him. Sarah had made me feel like rubbish, and I was unwilling to let that be a recurring thing. I knew that being friends with someone who was always in the limelight would have its drawbacks, but I never thought it would be this hurtful.  
The front door was unlocked when I got there, so I let myself in, calling out to my friend. He did not answer at first, but Marley did come charging down the hallway at me. I closed the door behind me, petting the dog as I took a few more steps in. To my right, I noticed five packages sitting on the table in the dining room—different ones from yesterday—and a big bouquet of pink roses.  
Slowly, I walked into the room, and saw a card on one of the packages.  
_Elle,_  
Sorry I was an ass.  
\--Zayn  
“Z?” I called out, glancing around again. There, coming down the stairs, I saw him in ripped up black skinnies and a plaid button-up layered over a graphic tee. He smiled when he saw me, and I gestured to the display. “What’s all this?”  
He shrugged, and came over to wrap me in a big bear hug. I lingered a little too long as I took in his scent of soap and hair product. With a hand on the small of my back, he turned me back toward the boxes and bags with designer labels. I felt like a small child on Christmas morning, my eyes wide as I tried to decide which one I wanted to open first.  
“This is all for me?” I asked, still in disbelief.  
“It is. And I still have your things from yesterday.”  
Grinning, I reminded him, “My birthday is in November.”  
“Pick something out from these to wear to dinner tonight,” he stated before walking back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N - I posted this one up a day early because I might not have time tomorrow. The next one will be in four days x)


	6. Caught Between a Dream and a Movie Scene

It felt like a slow dream, where all movements seem to take way too long to follow through. I was dressing myself in a flowy, brown dress with laces that tied a dangerously low cut in the front. My hair was in light curls, and I had done my makeup as well as I was able. The downtempo music playing in the background, coupled with a stick of incense I had lit helped with the cloudy ambiance. After all, my life itself was dream-like.

As my fingers worked on tying the laces, I studied my reflection, feeling a little awkward with the stick-on bra I had adhered to my breasts. They were not noticeable through the thin fabric, but the fact that I knew they were there made me slightly uncomfortable. I touched the spots with the palms of my hands, just to make sure they were really sticking, before turning to pick up the bronze sandals Zayn had purchased to accompany with the dress.

Like the Alexander McQueen dress from the night before, it was just long enough to cover the important parts, so long as I did not bend over in public. It seemed that this selection had been on purpose.

“Elle, are you nearly finished?” Zayn shouted from the other side of the door. “You’ve taken ages in there!”

I spun toward the hallway, fluffing out my hair. “Would you shut it? You don’t exactly pick out the most comfortable clothing for a girl!”

A silence followed, during which I could just tell that he was smirking. I gave my reflection a parting glance before picking up my purse, turning off the music, and opening the guest room door. Just as suspected, my friend was leaned against the doorframe, a grin on his face.

“What’s that look for?” I asked, walking past him toward the staircase.

Zayn pushed himself from the wall, following me downstairs. “You were listening to my music.”

“I hate your music,” I said, grateful that my back was to him so that he couldn’t see my blush. I had, in fact, been listening to _It’s You_ , which had been my guilty pleasure song since he had played it for me long before it dropped. Something about its simple melody and elevated music transcended me to another plane. Not that I would admit that to him.

He laughed, placing both hands on my shoulders and squeezing gently. I stopped walking and gently kicked him in the shin, smiling as I turned to look at him.

“So?” I started, gesturing to the dress.

Zayn took a couple steps backward, his eyes scanning my body as I posed for him. He put his hand to his chin, as if really examining me. I giggled softly when he nodded in approval.

“It looks nice,” he stated. “Your tits are a little low, though.”

I glanced down at them and scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s not like I could really wear a bra with this.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and reassured me, “I’m fucking with you. They look impossibly perky.”

Sticking my tongue out, I lowered my arms, peeking self-consciously at my miracle cleavage. It _had_ been extremely difficult to get them this high and pushed together with something that had the consistency of sellotape. I was quite proud of my accomplishment, and started beaming.

“Okay, okay. Quit looking at your boobs like that,” he instructed. “Our reservations are at seven, and we’re already late.”

He pushed me out the door toward his car. We sat in silence for a few minutes, heading back into the city. I grinned to myself as I watched the houses flying past us. Eventually, Zayn reached out and touched my knee to get my attention.

“You all right over there?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off the road.

“Yeah, brilliant,” I answered, cocking my head to the side. “I just can’t believe we’re finally hanging out somewhere that’s not one of our houses.”

Zayn started to open his mouth, but I cut in, “Last night does _not_ count. I was forcibly removed by your lovely manager.”

He scoffed lightly. “You were not ‘forcibly removed.’”

“But it makes for a great story.”

His eyes flickered to meet mine briefly, and his expression lightened as he realised that I was joking with him. We both laughed at the memory as the weight of that former rejection lifted from my shoulders. In retrospect, last night had not been as bad as I had made it out to be. Zayn had an image to keep up, and as his best friend, it was my job to help him keep that image.

“We’re going to have a great dinner, yeah?” he said, his hand squeezing my knee a second time. “Private room, no interruptions, no one kicking you out. Just two best friends chatting over a meal.”

And it really was as simple as that. Zayn and I were led to a back area that was sectioned-off from the rest of the dining room the moment we walked into the restaurant. He ordered a red wine and something called coq au vin. Once the waiter brought the wine and disappeared again, we clinked our glasses together and took a sip. The dry taste filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes, experiencing it. When I swallowed it, I looked across at my friend, who was watching me with unique interest.

“Good?” he asked, swirling his own glass.

I nodded and reached toward the bottle to read the label. Burgundies, I knew, were some of the most expensive wines, but at this point I expected nothing less from Zayn. The spoiling was continuing, and I was almost nervous that he would soon tire of it. There had to be only so long that a guy could spend money on a girl who had such little romantic interest in him.

Crossing my arms on the table, I leaned toward him, resting my breasts on them so they pushed further up. I noticed his gaze trail downward as he took another sip from his glass.

“So what’s up?” I asked, keeping the atmosphere light.

His eyes flickered back upward, and one corner of his mouth curled upward. My head tilted to the side again, my foot bouncing under the table. Zayn shrugged, laughing.

“I’m just having dinner with my best friend,” he stated. “And she’s really amazing.”

“Oh, is she?” I replied, raising my eyebrows.

“I think you’d like her. She’s extremely understanding and lovely.”

My face reddened at his words. “What did you do that she would need to understand?”

Zayn paused. Longer than necessary. My heart started pounding as I realised that he was talking about something other than Sarah being psychotic. I knew there had been too many presents on his dining room table this afternoon.

“Z, what happened?” I demanded.

He reached for the bottle and poured more wine into my glass until it was nearly to the top. “Drink more. It’s so good.”

“I’m not going to let you bring drama into my life, Malik,” I stated. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me, Elle.” He was immediately on the defensive. “You know I like to drink during a party.”

American Music Awards, the BRITs. Every awards show after-party resulted in a slurred-speech, whisky-fuelled phone call in which he reminded me how much he loved me and how great of a friend I was. But I had not received a phone call after the album release party, because he had left his party with his ex-girlfriend.

“You were going to tell me after I’d had an entire bottle of wine?” I said as the puzzle pieces fell in place. “That you slept with Gigi?”

Zayn looked at me like a scolded puppy. He hung his head, shoulders slumped forward. Pain resonated in my chest when he did not deny it.

“Less than eight hours after we…” My throat closed on the words, and I shook my head. There was no reason for me to be upset with him; we were just friends. I gave him a tight smile. “I don’t care, Z.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “You don’t? Elle, if you’re unhappy…”

I drank some wine before replying, “There’s nothing serious between you and me. We fuck around; that’s all. But you can’t get serious with her again. You can’t hurt her.”

Zayn nodded vigorously. “I swear it.”

With a heavy sigh, I glanced around before letting my eyes land on him once more. “I just don’t know how you can make this up to me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to update after four days, but I had extreme writer's block and didn't want to post a shit chapter just to make a deadline. I hope you guys enjoy this x


	7. Headlines Shine Bright

“No eye contact, no names.” Those were are only two rules, and at the moment, I was struggling to not break either. It started, as it normally did, the moment we stepped in the door. Anna was out of town—for real this time—and it had been a long week for both of us. Zayn had picked me up from the coffee shop, bitching the entire ride about how his numbers were not where he wanted them to be, as I volleyed with how shit it was to not be working in my dream field of art.  
So now I was underneath him on my bed, my back arched as he played rough, his hands squeezing my wrists till I was sure bruises were being formed. A deep purr resonated in his throat, right next to my ear, sending chills down my spine. I gasped as his teeth nipped at the base of my neck. This was the best form of stress relief I had ever found. We both had been in desperate need today.  
We had already been going at it for a good twenty minutes, and my body was floating a hundred feet above the earth until frantic knocking came on my bedroom door. I paused mid-moan, my entire body freezing as Zayn pulled away from me. We exchanged a glance as the knocking continued.  
“Elle!” my flatmate called. “Elle!”  
I rolled my eyes as Zayn whispered, “I thought she was out?”  
“So did I,” I hissed, climbing out of the bed and slipping on my bathrobe.  
Tying it around my waist, I opened the door just a crack to see Anna with a worried expression. She wrung her hands together, her bottom lip in a pout.  
“I’m sorry, Elle,” she said. “I didn’t know you had a guy over, but I did something really bad. You’re going to hate me.”  
“I thought your firm had a big case in Birmingham this weekend?” I responded.  
“It’s been pushed back.” She let out a huge sigh. “Can you send him home so we can talk?”  
I shook my head, slipping into the hallway and closing the door behind me. “Don’t mind him. What’s wrong? Did you forget to buy toilet roll? It’s okay; I can get some later. We’ll use tissues till then.”  
Anna pulled me by the hand to the sitting area and had me take a seat on the couch. “No, it’s not like that. It’s worse.”  
Exasperated, I asked, “Did you bring home a puppy?”  
“No! Elle, just listen!” she squeaked. “I was leaving the office and heard these two guys talking about…” She lowered her voice. “… _Zayn_.”  
My eyebrows pulled together to show her that I was still confused. She sighed heavily.  
“So I stood there for a little bit until I realised they were trying to figure out who _you_ were. And I didn’t mean to get involved. It just sort of happened, and I told them, ‘That’s my roommate, Elle Fox.’”  
Anna slapped her hands over her mouth as if chiding herself for saying that. My jaw dropped, her words echoing in my brain. She had told someone about me; she had handed my privacy over to two total strangers. I was not angry, but I would be when the shock subsided.  
“I’m so sorry, Elle,” she repeated from earlier. “That was such a shitty thing for me to do, and I regretted it as soon as I said it. But there was no way for me to take it back.”  
“What else did you tell them?” I asked, my voice quiet as I looked down at my hands.  
“Nothing! I swear! As soon as I said your name, I walked away.”  
I surprised myself as a tear fell out of my eye and rolled down my cheek. Wordlessly, I stood and walked back to my bedroom. Zayn was already dressed and had made the bed. He looked confused, sitting cross legged against the headboard, as I stood against the door, sniffling more tears back.  
“What happened?” he asked as I crossed the room and snatched my iPhone from the nightstand.  
I tapped the screen a few times until I was on the SugarScape website. Word travelled fast, but that did not prepare me for the headline:

>   
>  **Zayn Malik’s Mystery Girl Deciphered**  
>  An anonymous source has uncovered the identity of a girl who has been spotted on the _Befour_ singer’s arm. Her name is Elle Fox, and she is an average fan just like you.  
>  As it turns out, the pair met at the coffee shop where Elle works, though it is unclear when they started dating.  
>  Zayn has been seen out with Elle on multiple occasions, such as the release party for his new album _Mind of Mine_. We wonder if she’s cool with him leaving said party with ex-gal pal Gigi Hadid?  
> 

My heart leapt into my throat. If SugarScape knew about me, the whole world knew about me. I was aware of this long before Zayn and I had met; they were the number one source for information among One Direction fans. My life was, effectively, over.  
Zayn pulled my mobile from my hands and read the article. He let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers over his buzzed hair.  
“Anna’s the source?” he asked, setting the phone down again.  
I nodded, pulling my bathrobe tightly around me. “Z, I can’t do this. People are going to hate me.”  
Zayn put his arm around me protectively. “Elle, it isn’t that big of a deal.”  
“What if they find me? What if some crazy fangirl comes into the coffee shop and tries to kill me?”  
He chuckled softly and placed a finger under my chin to lift my head. Our eyes locked as he replied, “No one is going to try and kill you. I’ll have my team release a statement that we are just friends. No one is going to find you. You’re safe.”  
I nodded, and he lowered his hand. My head drooped down to rest on his chest. His calm heartbeat steadied my own, and I suddenly felt much better about the situation. The thing about best friends is that they always know what to say. 


	8. My Enemy, My Ally

I rushed into the coffee shop, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. Though I was only fifteen minutes late, my heart was pounding. My boss was setting up the regular brew urns when I got behind the counter, dropping my purse under the register.  
“I’m so sorry,” I told her, moving to the pastry box to put the baked goods in their display case.  
“It’s fine,” she replied. “You’re never late. Besides, it seems like you’ve been busy lately.”  
The plate of croissants nearly fell out of my hand, but I recovered it. Looking over to her, I realised that she had heard about Zayn. A knowing smile graced her face as I slid the plate into the case.  
“You could have at least had your ‘source’ mention the name of the café,” Marie said. “Get us some publicity from your boyfriend.”  
I laughed, finishing putting the pastries away. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”  
She shrugged, going to the front door to unlock it and turn the open sign around.  
“He sure does spend a lot of time here when you close,” she stated.  
“Been watching the cameras?” I asked, leaning on the counter as she walked back to fire up the espresso machine.  
Marie shrugged. “I have to make sure you don’t burn the place down.”  
I laughed as the front door opened, our first customer making their way to the counter. Jim, a regular with a good heart, shakily picked out the coins to pay for his small cup of black half-caf coffee before I could even begin to greet him. He studied the pieces in his hand through thick-lensed glasses before handing them over with a lopsided grin. I had declined his money many times before, but he always insisted.  
“Oh, and something for my granddaughter too,” he said as the front door bell jingled again.  
A tall, bored-looking blonde, maybe about fifteen, came up to Jim’s side, texting away. He reached for his wallet again as Marie returned to the counter with his coffee. We all waited for a moment before Jim finally spoke again.  
“Ruth, tell the girls what you want.”  
Ruth rolled her eyes and let out a tremendous sigh. I could not blame her for her boredom. If my seventy-year-old grandfather made me get up at seven in the morning to sit in a coffee shop, I would be bored too. In fact, I almost felt bad for the girl.  
Almost, I say, because of what happened when she finally looked up from her phone.  
“Holy shit.”  
I cringed. Not only from her clear recognition of me, but also because of poor, ancient Jim—who did not get up at seven in the morning to hear his granddaughter cursing.  
“No way!” Ruth continued. “You’re _actually_ Elle Fox. Like, _actually_ her.”  
I glanced at Marie for help before stupidly saying, “Um…yes. What can I get for you?”  
The girl’s jaw remained dropped as she smoothly raised her cell phone to take a photo of me. I flinched at the sound of the fake shutter going off.  
“Excuse me!” I gasped, leaping away. “Please delete that!”  
“I can’t _wait_ to tell my friends that I met Zayn’s girlfriend!” she said, typing away as if personal privacy was not a thing. “So safe.”  
I cocked my head to the side. People were still saying “safe”? Did that not die out in 2009? Oh, wait—Bigger problems.  
“I’m not his girlfriend!” I argued as more people entered the shop. “And you can’t send that!”  
Marie finally jumped in, but it was to say, “But if you do, make sure you mention the name of the café to your friends.”  
Now _my_ jaw was the one to drop. My boss was really using me as a pawn to bring in more business. What the hell had gotten into her? I had been working for her nearly two years, and she chose _now_ to reveal that she was actually psycho? I did not like this one bit.  
“You are not pimping me out as a mascot,” I stated, watching the line grow to the door. “That’s unethical!”  
A little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that sleeping with my best friend for clothes and fancy dinners was also unethical. But I quickly turned the thought away.  
“You can’t just use me to promote your business.”  
Much like I was using Zayn?  
“Elle, we can talk about it later,” Marie returned. “We have a line.”  
She looked at Jim and Ruth. “If you mention the name of the shop, whatever you want is on the house.”  
I looked at my boss in disbelief before picking up my purse from under the counter and walking straight out of the shop. She could not use me as a pawn if I did not work there anymore.  
As soon as I got into my car, dry sobs heaved at my chest, making me feel nauseous, until tears finally formed. This morning had been so promising, but now I felt like everything, including myself, was deteriorating before me. Zayn was my whole world, but suddenly it felt like none of that mattered because I was falling apart. He had been there for me through all the good and bad things in my life, but now he was causing all the bad.  
Or was I doing that to myself? Yes, he had said plain and simple that I was more than welcome to say no, that things could go back to normal as soon as I told him so. But how was I supposed to just give it up so easily?  
I had done cocaine, ecstasy, smoked, and drank… But none of them were as hard to quit as this thing I had going with Zayn. All the clothing, all the jewellery. Sure, it had only been a couple weeks, but it was consuming me. My handbag was Coach, and my trainers were Jimmy Choo; they made me feel better, like I mattered in the world. And I wanted more.  
In fact, as I sat in the carpark of my now-former place of work, sobbing my eyes out, all I could do was pick up my mobile and call my best friend, who I knew was still sleeping.  
He still answered in his scratchy voice, “Elle?”  
“Can we go shopping later?” I asked, knowing exactly how pathetic I sounded.   
His answer came almost immediately. “Of course. Come over.”


	9. Let's Cross the Lines We Lost

I let myself into Zayn's house when I got there, knowing that he had probably fallen back to sleep after our phone call. Locking the door behind me, I set my things down by it before tip-toeing down the hall and up the stairs. His bedroom door was cracked open; even living alone, he never slept with the door open. Peeking my head inside, however, I saw that he was lying on his side, light snores breaking the silence every now and then.

When we were still "just friends," I had slept in his bed before, both our bodies on the extreme edges so as not to breach any borders. But once the words "with benefits" got tacked onto our relationship, I had been sleeping in the guest room. It almost startled me to think of how much had changed in such a short amount of time. And now, watching Zayn sleep so peacefully, I wanted to lie with him again.

But my urges were stronger than they used to be. I did not just want to share the covers with him. What I wanted was to be close to him, his arms around me in a slumber-filled embrace. Then I realised that my heart was beating erratically. What was going on?

My thoughts were racing faster than I could keep up. But I could not be feeling what I thought I was. It just did not make sense. I was an intensely passionate, hopeless type of love-not this material, selfish love. My only ex had accused me of being too giving; I had a hard time accepting gifts, and now...

No, I did not love Zayn Malik. I loved the things he bought for me. I was in _lust_ with him.

I realised, too late, that I was still staring at him when he grunted and his eyes fluttered open. My face went hot, and I averted my gaze, awkwardly recovering myself.

"C'mere," he said blearily.

My eyes darted to glance back to him. He was holding his arms out toward me-just like I had wanted. I slipped my shoes off before shuffling to him. Zayn pulled me down onto his bed as I noticed that he was only wearing boxer-briefs. This made me, in my khakis and black t-shirt, feel even more awkward. But he still pulled me into him, paying no mind to what I wore.

"Hey," he greeted, eyes closed again. His morning breath filled my nostrils, and I jerked my head back in reaction. It was not necessarily unpleasant, but still, it was morning breath.

"Hi," I replied in a whisper to match his.

"You okay?"

I knew that my nose was still red and splotchy from crying. And now I was glad that his gorgeous brown eyes were not examining my face to see the discolouration.

"I quit my job," I stated before pulling the covers over my head.

"What?!"

Well...he was definitely awake now. I peeked over the edge of the quilt to make eye contact with him. Zayn looked so disappointed that it made my heart hurt.

"I mean, I didn't _quit_ ," I quickly added. "I just, sort of, walked out. Because Marie was using my- _your_ celebrity status to promote her business. And I didn't like it."

My friend let out a sigh, but nodded. "Okay."

Zayn rolled over and climbed out of bed, going to his closet. I watched him in curiosity as he picked out a t-shirt and jeans and pulled them on.

"I want to show you something," he told me, going toward the door.

I scrambled after him and followed down the hall to the guest room. Before he opened the door, he turned to me sheepishly.

"If you don't like it, it's okay," he said, "but I had a team working over here all weekend to make it perfect."

My eyebrows pulled together, and he opened the door to reveal the new guest room. Its once-navy walls were now a light beige, and there was a king-sized canopy bed with a wrought-iron frame where a standard queen used to stand. My eyes widened at the matching vanity and full-length mirror. I turned to look at Zayn, unsure what to say.

"It's for you," he confirmed my thoughts. "I have two other guest rooms downstairs; I didn't need three. But wait..."

He led me to the double shutter doors that he opened up into the walk-in closet I knew was there. But now it was the same beige and line with gowns on one side and various tops and skirts on the other. Down the centre were jewellery cases that contained all the bras and panties a girl could dream of-one for every day of the year, it seemed. And on the wall opposite the doors, shelves of shoes. All for me.

Suddenly, I was finding it extremely hard to do anything, even move. Zayn was serious about spoiling me. But, honestly, what the fuck?

"What is all this?" I asked, walking down the row of dresses, finding that it ended in some more casual ones.

He laughed softly, trailing after me. "I gave your measurements to my personal shopper. Do you like it?"

I nodded, smiling. Never in my life had I had this much to call my own. He was so amazing to do this for me. I turned and hugged him tightly. A kiss was pressed to the top of my head. What had I done to deserve this? I liked to think of myself as a good friend, but I did not think that I was worth all of this.

"You can stay here whenever you want," he stated. "No questions asked. You already have a key to my place, so why not a room?"

"Z, I...I don't know what to say," I replied, looking up at him.

He shrugged, stepping out of the embrace. "Just say you want it. And that you'll let me take you to lunch."

"Deal," I agreed, looking around at all the clothes again. "Well, I guess I need to figure out what to wear."

Zayn smiled again. "Good. I'll meet you downstairs whenever you're ready."


End file.
